Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 92734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“That’d require a lot of resources if you wanted to make any kind of impact.”
“I know.” Resources he didn’t have access to without stooping to lows he promised himself he’d never touch.
She frowned harder. “And there’s the added complication that you’re just creating a demand for a very specific kind of product. You’d have to have something long term in place to take out the main players, otherwise it might actually contribute to the overall problem, rather than helping it.”
“I know.” He hadn’t thought that far ahead, but it was a valid point. He could ship in all the girls he wanted, but he’d just be ripping more women from their lives if he didn’t cut the head off the snake, so to speak. For someone who doesn’t want responsibility to begin with, you sure as fuck attract it. “I have something in mind.”
The night that his old man had been arrested had given him the idea. Someone on the other side had been in bed with the feds. While James wasn’t willing to go that far, he thought he could work something out where he threw them the information on the sellers he had and let them do their damn jobs.
If it had the added bonus of helping keep them off his back and out of Halloran business, well, he was okay with that, too.
“In that case…” Carrigan snapped her fingers. “Nonprofit.” When he motioned for her to continue, she shrugged. “They aren’t the simplest things to set up, and there’d be some serious challenges along the way—especially for a family like yours or mine—but as long as you kept the funds collected going exactly where they’re supposed to and aboveboard, it would be a valid option.”
Maybe for her. She moved in the circles of society who liked to whip out their checkbooks for that kind of thing. In his neighborhood, most everyone was struggling just to get by. “Hmm.”
She turned to face him fully. “Are you seriously considering something like that? I thought you guys dealt in the sex trade.”
“Sex trade is different than slave trade.” He knew he sounded furious, but it was hard to rein it in when he’d worked so fucking hard to get them out of it, only to have his brother trying to drag them back to hell. “I got us out of the involuntary flesh trade.”
“And now you’re thinking about getting back into it for different reasons.” Even in the moving shadows of his car, her green eyes saw too much. “You could make a serious difference, James. Even if you did it on a small scale, every person you save is a miracle.”
He couldn’t have her looking at him like that, like he was some kind of white knight or hero or some shit. He wasn’t. He was just a man who’d done more bad than good, a man who wanted to balance the scales in any way he could. “It probably wouldn’t work out anyway.”
“James…” She trailed off and turned back to look out the window. “I was going to offer to help, but I can’t promise anything with my current situation.”
Which was the exact thing he’d brought her out here to help her forget. Great job, asshole.
He took the exit for York, and wound down to the little seaside town. It was a summer tourist spot, so it was nearly deserted this time of year, and the evening hour only added to that. Which was perfect. He didn’t have the patience to deal with other people right now. All he wanted was some one-on-one time with Carrigan away from Boston. He parked next to the beach and climbed out of the car.
She was out before he could come around to open the door for her, and she wasn’t looking at the ocean behind them. Instead, she was focused on the house at his back. “I know this house.”
If she’d spent any time looking at that album, she would. “It was my mother’s.” The only thing that had been hers and hers alone in her marriage with Victor. He didn’t know how she’d managed to pull that off, but he was grateful. She’d brought them up here—just her and her boys—for a few weeks each summer every year while they were growing up.
She’d passed it to James when she died.
He ignored the dull ache in his chest that always came with thoughts of this place. Some of the happiest times of his life had been spent in this little town, but they were all because of her. She could have taken them to a shack in the middle of the woods with no running water, and he still would have been in heaven.
“I haven’t been back here in something like twelve years.” Not since he’d come up here after he turned eighteen to set up a maid service to clean the place out once a month after his mother died.